Unicorn 1 Poem by Michael Shepherd

Those who’ve seen one, all give differing accounts;
that’s how it should be. No in-depth video. No coffee-table book.
But the collected book of sightings –
that’s hairs on the back of the neck stuff.
One detail, though, they all agree– it came at just the right time;
although they did not know it at the time;
but time brought truth; as truth brought time.

The place they saw it– now that was surely a surprise;
and so they wonder
how their own hallowed place can not bring further sightings;
forgetting that unicorns are not bound by the same space and time
as we the spellbound are. Their space and time if we could see them
would be like joy and sadness indistinguishable.

By night, they live as unicorns must live
within this world; so that they may live among us
while living free from us; this the law of magic
which to them is natural; it’s said they live at night
by the light of their own horn, that glows like fireflies glow,
light without fire; except that we cannot see that light.
(Scientists may explain this; EM wavelengths, ultra-infra …;
all they, we, really need is taken care of...)

And then by day, they love the quiet places; for
they do not seek us, or seek to show themselves;
but we are drawn to seek their mystery.
For mysteries are not mysteries unless they hide a truth.
Forest glades; among the hills; white amidst the waves;
wherever we are nearest to one in ourselves.